


Doctor Thunder's a Little Bitch

by HarveyDangerfield, LondonQueen001



Series: Pressed Flowers [2]
Category: Dream Daddy: A Dad Dating Simulator
Genre: Coitus Interruptus, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Established Relationship, M/M, Past Abuse, Wrestling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-09
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-25 17:15:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12040524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HarveyDangerfield/pseuds/HarveyDangerfield, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LondonQueen001/pseuds/LondonQueen001
Summary: Hugo finally works up the nerve to tell Damien about his adoration of wrestling. Damien is delighted to share it with him.





	Doctor Thunder's a Little Bitch

**Author's Note:**

> this entire series of one shots is gonna be loosely in chronological order, not necessarily immediately following one another. except for the next one, it's gonna be smut, and it is gonna be immediately following this one. 
> 
> but besides that, these are in order, but there's An Amount Of Time between them. sometimes it'll be specified, other times it might not be. we're figuring it out as we go.

The vocabulary word of the day is apprehension, Hugo thinks to himself as he sits across from Damien, enjoying dinner and a friendly debate about Victorian literary genres. Gothic romances versus mystery versus the birth of the science fiction genre. It should have been a pleasant evening if not for the cloud of apprehension Hugo found weighing on his mind.

  
  
It was always like this, at the start of relationships. Not that he had had many over the years but he’d tried once or twice, and the apprehension, among other things, usually stopped him from letting things get this far. The beginnings of relationships were of course fun and exciting because everything was new, every day you learned something about your partner you had never known before. Which was exhilarating. But, the flip side of that was that every day they learned something new about you too. Hugo isn’t a man of many secrets but the one or two things he did keep to himself he always worried would be the thing to drive someone away.

  
  
Especially someone like Damien, who’s smart and elegant and refined. He might shop at Hot Topic but only out of commitment to his aesthetic, it certainly wasn’t a reflection on his intelligence or impeccable taste. Certainly, none of his hobbies were foolish, crass, or worthy of ridicule. But, relationships are built on openness and there would be no moving forward if Hugo constantly held back this embarrassing part of himself. The least he could hope for is that Damien will only laugh and not decide it’s too idiotic to put up with at all.

  
  
“Forgive me for saying so my love, but it seems as though you’ve been buttoned up all evening,” Damien says as they’re sipping dessert wine over their empty ice cream bowls. They’ve been playing footsy under the table for most of the evening, but every one of Hugo’s smiles have seemed tense. At first Damien just thought he was stressed from his workday, but it’s been nearly two hours and he seems exactly as tense as he did when Damien first came over.

  
  
He reaches across the table to lay his hand over Hugo’s. “Is something the matter?”

  
  
Hugo turns his hand over to hold Damien's and offers him another tight smile. "Not exactly. I mean, nothing is wrong, I just have something on my mind."

  
  
He squeezes Damien's hand, trying to reassure him. "We've been together for a little while now, and I've cherished every moment of our time together, you know that I hope. I've loved learning all about your passion for the Victorian era, and gardening, and...unusual literature." His smile is teasing but genuine now. "You've shared so much with me. And I think it's my turn to do the same, I'm just worried your opinion of me might change after."

  
  
The clenching Damien felt in his throat once Hugo started into that little speech evens out into an uncomfortable knot in his stomach instead. For a moment there he’d been so sure Hugo was about to give him the ‘it’s been fun, but I’ve finally decided that I need a Real Man instead” speech. Simultaneously he thinks that there’s nothing Hugo could reveal about himself that would put Damien off, while at the same time, worried that maybe there _is_ something, and he starts trying to think of what that list would entail.

  
  
“Oh?” is all he can manage to get out, rubbing his thumb against Hugo’s.

  
  
Hugo sighs and rubs the back of his neck nervously. "I think it'll be better if I just show you." He gets up and clears the table, carefully setting their dishes to soak in the sink before coming back and offering Damien his hand. "It's just upstairs."

  
  
Oh god. Is this where Hugo shows him to his secret BDSM torture dungeon? Damien grips his hand tightly, wondering if that would be a deal breaker for him if it was. He supposes not, if Hugo can put up with his eccentric wardrobe, he could definitely handle Hugo wearing leather during sex- if they ever get to that stage of their relationship, that is. Hopefully Hugo won’t want to torture _him_ , he doesn’t think he’d be into that.

  
  
Before he knows it they’re in front of the door, and he’s instinctively pulling back against Hugo’s hand just a little bit. What if Hugo won’t want to be intimate with him unless it’s to torture him? What if he _needs_ that to feel fulfilled in a relationship? Could Damien handle that sort of relationship?

  
  
The tug on his hand makes Hugo pause. He wants to stop, to say never mind, they don’t need to do this, and lead Damien back downstairs to put some old black and white romance on and snuggle with him on the couch until they both fall asleep. They’ve yet to actually watch a movie all the way through, always ending up curled in some awkward position only to wake up with sore necks a few hours later. It’s entirely worth it and Hugo already has his eye on a larger couch that will make cuddling all the better. Maybe they don’t need to do this tonight. Or ever. It can stay his little secret.

  
  
He sighs and mentally scolds himself for being so nervous. Best to get it over and done with. Tear off the band aid, so to speak. If Damien can’t handle this part of him, it’s better to know now before he’s in even deeper and it only hurts more.

  
  
Hugo turns to smile at Damien again before opening the door and turning on the light, revealing his collection of wrestling posters, figurines, and other memorabilia filling the small den. He takes a step into the room and turns to watch Damien’s reaction, heart hammering in his chest.

  
  
Damien steps into the room, fully expecting to see torture racks and leather things hanging from the ceiling, so when he’s met instead by a colorful collection of action figures and posters in every shade and hue of the rainbow, he’s so taken off guard that he gives a relieved laugh, holding his hand to his chest.

  
  
“What- what is all this?” he asks, looking around the room, barely registering what he’s looking at. “Are these... superheroes? Wait, is all this _yours_?” he looks back down at Hugo, tearing his eyes off the posters.

  
  
Hugo deflates a little at Damien’s laugh, cheeks burning with shame. He knew he would laugh, expected it, because of course he would. No one as incredible as Damien could look at is collection and not laugh, but the sound still stings a little.

  
  
“Wrestlers, actually,” He says quietly. He doesn’t meet Damien’s eyes, instead looking around the room. He reaches out to adjust one of the figurines on the shelf so it’s facing properly forward. “Yes, it’s mine. It’s stupid, I know, I just thought it would be better you knew now, early on, rather than finding out later. I’ll walk you home, if you like or if you’d prefer I didn’t, I understand.”

  
  
Damien’s joyful grin sags when he sees the look on Hugo’s face. He looks... ashamed. Damien’s heart aches in his chest and he takes a step forward, reaching out to put his hand on Hugo’s bicep.

  
  
“Now hold on just a moment, darling, this is far from stupid. Just look at this collection, this is magnificent!” he turns to the shelf to look at the figurines, all lined up in perfect order. “Did you paint these yourself?” he asks, looking at all the tiny little brush strokes filling out parts of the figures.

  
  
Hugo perks up a little, taking a step closer to Damien and nodding. “Most of them. Some come painted, but the paint job isn’t great, or it’s inaccurate, so I redo it. Others I do on my own. It’s, relaxing, in a way. Takes attention and focus, but not the sort of mental engagement reading does. And it’s satisfying to see the outcome.”

  
  
He takes one off the shelf, feeling a little more confident. Damien said it wasn’t stupid. He isn’t about to walk out and laugh all the way home over Hugo’s silly little hobby. It gives him a little hope and makes him a little bolder as he hands the figurine to Damien. “This one is my favorite. King Harley.”

  
  
Damien giggles helplessly as he inspects the figure with its plastic crown and satin purple furry cape. This is so hopelessly _charming_. And he didn’t think he could be any more endeared by Hugo. He looks up again into the man’s face, into his expression of hopeful terror, and he reaches up to cup his cheek.

  
  
“I’m so terribly sorry for laughing,” he says, holding the figuring against his chest. “I’ll admit, I was imagining something far worse. I only laughed because it took me off guard how _normal_ this all is.”

  
  
“Normal? Really? You don’t think it’s stupid or pedestrian or pointless?” Hugo asks. He leans into the gentle touch against his cheek. He’s so relieved he honestly feels a little weak at the knees now that all the tension is slowly easing away. “What have I done to deserve you?” He says, smiling at Damien. A true, genuine grin now.

  
  
“If you ask me, every hobby is a little bit stupid. The point isn’t to find a hobby that isn’t silly, you only need to find one that makes you happy. I taxidermy animals and leatherbind fanfiction, there is no hierarchy of inherent worth when it comes to hobbies.”

  
  
He sets the figurine on the shelf and turns him so he’s facing forward. “I would say that as far as hobbies go, encyclopedic knowledge of wrestling is as noble as it is ruggedly masculine. You have nothing to fear my love,” he cups Hugo’s face in both hands. “After all, one of the largest and most highly accepted hobbies of all time among men in this country is football, and I challenge you to describe any way in which football and wrestling are different.”

  
  
"I know you aren't a huge fan of sports but I can assure you, there are many ways in which wrestling and football are different. But I won't bore you with the details." Hugo laughs.

  
  
He wraps his arms around Damien's waist and pulls him forward to kiss him. He can't believe how lucky he is to have found this man, who not only wants him and is beautiful and smart and fun but also doesn't immediately scorn the things he loves. Seems to encourage it, in a way Hugo never would have hoped for. He's so happy he's practically giddy over it.

  
  
“Oh? I would challenge that,” Damien grins, happily slumped against Hugo’s chest in his embrace. “In both sports, everybody wears spandex, tackling is encouraged, grunting is prolific, and if you handle balls with your hands you’re disqualified.”

  
  
Hugo can’t help but laugh. “That’s _soccer_.”

  
  
“Oh, whatever,” Damien runs his hands through Hugo’s hair and gives him another kiss. “My point stands. If you ever want to go to the er... local wrestle club with me, I would be delighted to attend. From what I understand, given the theatrical nature of wrestling, it would be just like going to see a play, but with more punching.”

  
  
Hugo laughs at 'local wrestle club' but can't be bothered to correct Damien. He's too happy to start correcting and explaining every little thing.

  
  
"In a way. There's characters and plotlines and everything is scripted. It'll take a little explaining, but I'm happy to fill you in on the details." he says. He's already imagining them going to a match together. Maybe Damien will actually enjoy himself, will actually get into the story and want to go more. Maybe that's too hopeful but right now he doesn't care.

  
  
"Do you know the roots of modern professional wrestling can be traced back to the Victorian era?" he says, hands slipping down from Damien's waist to rest on the curve of his ass.

  
  
“Really?” Damien perks up with genuine interest now, thrilled to learn that there’s some overlap between their hobbies. He’ll have to do some extensive reading up on that and write a research paper to read to Hugo over dinner one night. _Nothing’s_ sexier than a research paper.

  
  
Speaking of sexy- he’s pretty sure Hugo is looking at him like he just lit the sun. His hands move from his face to loop over his neck. Is this it? Is this how it’s going to happen? Dating for weeks, and now Hugo is going to lay him down on the rug of his Wrestle Room and make love to him after they shared a passionate moment bonding over his secret love of wrestling?

  
  
He’s pretty sure Hugo’s picking up the same vibe he’s putting down, because he barely has to tilt his head before the taller man is angling his head down to meet his mouth in a hot, open-mouth kiss.

  
  
Hugo discerns Damien's intent immediately and slips his tongue into the other man's mouth, deepening the kiss. His hold on Damien's ass becomes more firm, holding him against his chest and trying to silently urge him to let him lower him down onto the soft carpet. He never imagined it would happen like this, here in front of his collection, but he doesn't want to waste time getting to the bedroom. He wants Damien now, wants to lay him out before him and cover his slim body with his own, take the time to kiss and touch him everywhere and finally consummate their relationship.

  
  
Of course, nothing is ever so perfect or graceful, and Damien’s shoulder hits a shelf on the way down, dislodging it from its bracings and scattering at least thirty tiny plastic men all across the carpet, sending them both into a giggle fit. Hugo instead picks Damien up and sets him on a desk with a free inch with the intent to clean up the figurines, but Damien grabs him by the tie and yanks him back into a kiss, locking his ankles behind his knees.

  
  
The energy in the room is giddy and light, both of them like giggling, pawing schoolboys, drunk on the taste of one another’s lips (and maybe a little bit too much wine) and frantic to feel the other’s skin on his.

  
  
Hugo doesn't argue, doesn't fight, and instead busies himself trying to figure out how to remove Damien's cape without breaking their kiss for more than a few seconds. The figures can wait, they're unimportant compared to the man before him whose long deft fingers have pushed his suit jacket off his shoulders and begun work loosening his tie.

  
The cape finally comes free and falls onto the desk and Hugo rewards himself by running his hands through Damien's long, silky hair, pushing it out of the way so he can kiss his neck above the collar of his shirt.

  
  
Damien’s little double-hitched breath is drowned out by the very loud cry of, “OH, GOD!”

  
  
And Hugo snaps back to see a horrified Ernest clutching the door knob in one hand, and a can of monster in the other.

  
  
“Ernest!” Damien’s legs snap together.

  
  
“Why--?” Hugo starts, but Ernest is already explaining,

  
  
“I thought something fell over! I heard a noise! You would have fucking blamed it on me! Fuck!” he yanks the door shut, and Damien flinches as they listen to Ernest cuss all the way down the hall, and he hangs his head in his hands. His heart is still pounding as he peeks out and up and Hugo.

  
  
“Looks like Ernest made it home alright,” he grimaces.

  
  
"It would seem so." Hugo says, blushing. He takes a step back and fixes his tie. The mood has been pretty thoroughly ruined now and there's definitely not going to be any continuing with Ernest in the house.

  
  
A few seconds later the muffled sounds of loud angry music float through the room and Hugo sighs. "I'm sorry. I'll have to talk to him. We should probably wait until the weekend before doing anything like this again. He'll be at his father's then so. I'm really sorry."

  
  
“No worries,” Damien smiles, reaching up to straighten Hugo’s tie for him. “We have all the time in the world to ah... bounce around the bush.” he claps his hands gently to either side of Hugo’s face, trying not to look too disappointed, even though he can see that Hugo is, too.

  
  
Tonight’s gonna be a night for The Batman, Damien can already tell as he bids Hugo goodbye to walk across the street to his house. A night when he goes to bed early, locks his bedroom door, puts on some soothing music, and breaks all eight inches of black latex out of his bedside drawer. The worst part is that this is far from the first time that they’ve been interrupted right when they’re about to get to the good part; once Hugo had to answer an emergency call in to school when a teacher sprained their wrist during his day off, another time he had to leave Hugo’s house in the middle of the night because Lucien called him to say he was lost at some party in the woods and they broke out hard drugs and it freaked him out, and he’s sure he’s missing a few. It’s like the universe itself is conspiring to keep them apart, and his loins are _ablaze_ for Hugo.

  
  
Not even The Batman could soothe his savage breast tonight, and he finds himself curled up in his silk robe in bed, researching wrestling. He discovers some kind of elimination-style smackdown of 20 local wrestlers with a few evidently well-known names tossed in. He’s sure Hugo has already heard of it, it’s only an hour and a half drive away, but he at least hopes it’ll be a surprise when Hugo finds two tickets wrapped up in a letter in his mailbox within the next couple days.

  
  
The talk with Ernest does not go well, ending in shouting and slammed doors and even louder music blasting through the house and Hugo goes ends up going to bed three different kinds of frustrated. Someday he and Damien will get this right. No interruptions, no emergencies, just the two of them finally enjoying the intimacy he knows they both long for. It'll just take a little time.

  
  
He calls Damien the next day to apologize again and they meet for coffee. Neither brings up wrestling or anything about the previous night. Things seem to be settling back into their normal routine over the next couple of days until Hugo comes home from work three days after the incident.

  
  
He picks up the mail and starts sorting through the usual junk and bills when he spots the envelop. Minutes later he's across the street, knocking on Damien's door a little too fast and a little too loud, tickets clutched tightly in his fist.

  
  
It’s Lucien who answers the door, because of _course_ it is, and he leans in the doorway. “Sup?”

  
  
“Is your father home?” Hugo asks, trying to get a look past the teenager leaning in the gap between the slightly open door and the door frame.

  
  
“Depends. You got ten bucks?” Lucien smirks up at him. “There’s a tax for coming in without the dress code, _Mister Vega_.” he plucks at the front of his own black shirt.

  
  
"I think you can overlook that in return for me not telling your father you've been skipping gym class again?" he offers, crossing his arms. Damien will find out anyway but there's no need for Hugo to report it to him early.

  
  
Lucien’s eyes narrow. “You win this round, Mr. Vega,” he says, just as Damien’s voice calls out from behind him,

  
  
“Oh! Hugo?” Lucien’s already turning around and heading up the stairs by the time Damien makes it to the door. “Good afternoon, Hugo, I’m afraid I didn’t prepare for your visit, but I could quickly steep some tea if you’d like.”

  
  
"No need." Hugo says. He takes half a second to make sure Lucien isn't still on the stairs before leaning in to steal a kiss from Damien. He pulls back and holds up the tickets. "You're incredible, you know. I had my eye on this event for months but didn't buy a ticket because I didn't want to go alone."

  
  
Damien breaks into a smile when Hugo holds out the tickets like a triumphant child. “Well, now you won’t have to,” he says proudly, reaching up to cup Hugo’s cheek. “I suppose this means you’re free Friday evening? Would you like to drive or shall I?”

  
  
"You. I'm going to be too excited to be a safe driver." Hugo laughs. He kisses Damien again while he tries to find the right words to convey everything he's feeling. "Thank you." He says finally, smiling at Damien like he's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. "For these tickets. And for wanting to go with me. It means... more than I can say."

  
  
The days until Friday pass in a blur. Almost every spare moment that Hugo and Damien are able to catch together is spent with Damien watching Hugo with a dopey expression as he goes on and on about the history of each and every wrestler that will be performing. After the first lunch break that Damien drove to school to spend with him, he spent a little time researching a few of the names on the list so that when Hugo brings them up, Damien is able to retaliate with some facts of his own- a few of which Hugo didn’t even know, and when Damien tells him, he looks like he’s seen the face of God.

  
  
Damien would think that Hugo’s never had a single conversation in his life in which the other person had any active listening skills, given the way he looks at Damien like he might propose to him on the spot whenever Damien prompts him to keep talking with a direct question about the rules or wrestler he’s currently talking about. Then again, considering he’s a high school teacher, it’s quite possible that it’s been a very long time since he had a conversation in which the other person was not being sarcastic with him.

  
  
When Friday comes, Damien realizes he has nothing to wear. Hugo tells him that he shouldn’t wear anything ‘too nice’ over the phone the previous day, since clothing is almost certainly going to be ruined when going to a sporting event, especially one in which the fan base is so energetic. All of Damien’s clothes are either too precious to risk ruining, or his work attire- none of which he’s willing to sacrifice, considering he has so few articles.

  
  
So he enlists Hugo’s help. After all he’d helped Hugo with the prom fiasco with his wardrobe, even though very little of his clothing would ever be able to fit the man- and he’s sure the opposite would also be true, but he’d really rather not show up to a wrestling match in a purple polo shirt. He’d look like a _dweeb_.

  
  
He finds himself in Hugo’s bedroom in naught but one of his only two pairs of jeans (the black ones, it’ll be harder for stains to show up) and a very thin cotton undershirt that doesn’t do anything to hide the binder lines beneath, while Hugo goes through his scores of wrestling shirts. Damien can only watch him with a faint smile on his face. Hugo’s so disgustingly cute when he’s flustered.

  
  
"I know I have something," Hugo mutters, tearing through his closet. Most of his wrestling shirts are kept in a small shelving unit towards the back of his closet, out of sight and away from Ernest's grasp. He'd lost one too many rare shirts to his son's occasional pyromania to risk more, so he kept them all neatly folded and hidden away behind rows of blazers and button ups. Usually. Today he's pulling them out and tossing them aside with little thought to keeping the closet neat and orderly.

  
  
"I must have saved a few shirts from college," he says, to himself as much as to Damien. "They won't be your size but they'll be closer than my newer ones. Worst comes to worst you can borrow one of Ernest's hoodies, they're too big for him anyway, should fit you."

  
  
He keeps digging for a few more minutes before straightening up with a triumphant 'Ah ha!'

  
  
He comes out of the closet and holds up the black teeshirt to Damien. A wrestler's logo is emblazoned across the front in bright green. "Found it! It's vintage but that's fine, no one will care about that."

  
  
Damien feels a fluttering in his chest when Hugo forgoes all others to find, specifically, a black shirt for him. His smile is too big for his face as he pulls it on over his head. It’s hilariously oversized on him, and immediately slips off a shoulder, but he tugs it right back up.

  
  
“This is perfect,” he says, standing up to tuck the front of the shirt up into his belt, just so his packer will show a little bit. He doesn’t want to get mistaken for a girl if he can help it, but it always tends to happen when he goes out at least once- interestingly, more often when he’s in civilian clothes than when he’s done up in gothic laces and ruffles. He pulls his hair up into a high ponytail, and then wraps the hair around the base into a perfect little top knot, sticking the end back through the band.

  
  
He slips his glasses back on over his nose and fluffs the shirt out. “How do I look?” he holds his hands out and sticks out a single ankle boot gaily. The shirt slips off his shoulder.

  
  
Hugo grins, looking him up and down. The ankle boots with their pointy toes are a little questionable, but all around Damien looks adorable and perfect and Hugo doesn't bother trying to stop himself from stealing a quick kiss. "You look great. You might be more comfortable in sneakers if you have them but you look great. The man bun is a good look for you."

  
  
Hugo himself had actually let his hair down for the occasion and was dressed in a comfortably worn pair of jeans and his favorite wrestling shirt. While the clothes are always comfortable he feels more relaxed than usual knowing Damien isn't going to disapprove of his choice of outfit for the night.

  
  
“You look darling in orange,” he tells Hugo, spreading his hands on his chest for another kiss. “Let us depart while the evening is still young, we don’t want to be late.”

  
  
He slips behind the wheel of his car, and they spend the whole drive there with the reporter for the coming show playing lowly in the background between radio commercials, and Hugo scans the roster for the evening obsessively, practically vibrating with excitement. Damien loves the energy coming off of Hugo right now, it could light a rocket to the moon, but part of him has to wonder if this is how he always acts towards his special interest, or if it’s because nobody’s ever really let him talk about it.

  
  
Damien can recall when he was young and first starting out as a goth, when he would wear black tee shirts that had designs on them inside out and backwards, and hand-me-down studded jewelry was more precious to him than diamonds, when he thought the rule for eyeliner was ‘the more the merrier’ and getting his hands on even one fishnet glove in a thrift shop, it was like striking gold. The people who would look at him, namely other goths who were older and had their own jobs and their own money to buy the Tripp pants that were so popular while he was in middle school and seemed so completely out of his budget that anybody who wore them was a gothic deity, and actually treat him like his new found favorite hobby was worth a damn, have forever held a spot in his mind as the people who mattered the most to him when he was figuring everything out and first coming into his passion.

  
  
It strikes him as if Hugo has never had that, before. Which also strikes him as odd, because he knows that wrestling isn’t exactly a cult following. It may not be as popular as say football or baseball, but it isn’t as if it’s underground, so it can’t be that Hugo has never been able to talk about his interest with anybody...

  
  
He realizes he’s nearly swerving into oncoming traffic when Hugo yelps, and he focuses his eyes back on the road, shaking his head clear of thoughts as he swerves back into his own lane. “My stars!” he gasps, one hand flying out to hold Hugo by the chest, as though he would even have the strength to keep him from going through the windshield if they did have an accident. “I’m so sorry! I was lost in thought!”

  
  
"Is everything alright?" Hugo asks, looking nervous. "If you're nervous about going, I understand. We can go home and watch a movie instead, I don't mind, I'll pay you back for the tickets."

  
  
He tries his best to hide the way his heart sinks a little at the thought. It's not fair to make Damien go if he doesn't want to or if he's uncomfortable. Hours and hours of shouting, sweaty men drinking beer and watching choreographed combat isn't exactly the other man's idea of a good time and no doubt he'll feel out of place all night. It wouldn't be right to make him go. He's already been so supportive, maybe this is just too much for him, Hugo thinks, already feeling guilty about the feeling of disappointment settling over him.

  
  
“Yes, of course, everything is just fine,” Damien flashes Hugo a bright smile, but he notes how quickly the man gave excuses and reassurances that Damien really didn’t actually have to give a shit about his hobbies. Which was ludicrous, of course he had to- and furthermore he finds his hobby incredibly charming and a little bit sexy if he’s being completely honest- but even if he wasn’t genuinely endeared by it, just by nature of being Hugo’s boyfriend he would at least be supportive and invested in his hobbies because Hugo loves them and he loves Hugo. It’s part of being in a relationship.

  
  
He’s starting to get the sinking feeling that maybe Hugo’s never had that before, but he doesn’t want to bring it up now, not before the game. He’ll ask after, on the way back. He doesn’t want to ruin the game for Hugo by bringing up anything unsavory beforehand.

  
  
They make it to the arena with no other issues, and manage to snag a pretty close parking spot, since they’re almost an hour early. Hugo leads the way towards the concessions stand, trying to communicate the idea of getting snacks before the match starts with all the noise around them. Damien seems to get it and they get in line. Half an hour later they're making their way to their seats, each with a soda and some popcorn, Hugo also carrying a hot dog, and prepare to settle in for the next few hours.

  
  
The noise is _deafening_ and the arena itself is odorific to put it politely, but Hugo is putting off light like a star and looks like he’s about to climb out of his own skin he’s so excited. Damien doesn’t bother trying to speak to him, the level he’d have to raise his voice in order to be heard might actually damage something inside his body, so he just reaches out and puts his hand on Hugo’s to get his attention, and when the man turns his beaming, excited face towards Damien to see what he wants, Damien gives him a kiss on the cheek.

  
  
Hugo blushes and takes Damien's hand, giving it a squeeze. He can't remember the last time he was so happy and excited and there's no one he would rather share it with.

  
  
The first bout proves Hugo isn't going to be able to explain much to Damien over the noise of the crowd so he gives up and instead just focuses on enjoying the show, hoping his excitement will be just a little bit infectious and help Damien enjoy himself.

  
  
Damien truly does enjoy himself. Sometimes he works up the nerve to lean in and shout questions in Hugo’s ear, even if he only catches half of the answers, the way Hugo lights up in order to explain is enough for him. He even finds himself getting into it, screaming when the rest of the crowd screams and laughing when they do. He knows very little about the players despite his extensive research, so he hinges on Hugo’s reactions to match. He boos when Hugo does, screams in enjoyment when he does, and sometimes he even notices things that Hugo doesn’t, and he’ll yank on his arm and scream and point.

  
  
He’s going to lose his voice after this for sure, but it’ll be worth it. When Alley Cat manages to pin, flip, and then throw Doctor Thunder, Damien screams right along with Hugo. He won’t pretend that the best part of this for him isn’t seeing Hugo looking like a child getting everything they ever wanted on Christmas morning, but he has to admit, screaming “DOCTOR THUNDER’S A LITTLE BITCH!” at the top of his lungs is _freeing_.

  
  
The night passes too quickly for Hugo and all too soon the match is wrapped up and they're filing out with the rest of the fans, still shouting and laughing all the way out the door. They stop in one of the shops on the way out and Hugo buys them each a shirt to commemorate the night. He knows the chances of Damien wearing it are slim but maybe it'll be something he can wear to work on his garden so he doesn't have to worry about staining one of his nicer outfits.

  
  
"What did you think?" he asks when they get into the car. He probably shouts the question, his ears still ringing but he's too happy to care. He's practically vibrating from the adrenaline coursing through him and beside him Damien looks positively beautiful, flushed from the excitement of the night.

  
  
“It was thrilling!” Damien answers back just as loudly. His teeth are buzzing in his head, tingling down his jaw. His voice is absolutely thrashed, but luckily it’s the weekend, he’ll have time to recover before going in to work on Monday. He sits down in the car, his cheeks aching from all the smiling he’s done over the last few hours. It’s pitch dark now, and they still have to drive for an hour and half to get home. Unless they don’t. He looks over at Hugo. “Hotel?”

  
  
Hugo grins and nods, already pulling out his cell phone to text Ernest and let him know he won't be coming home tonight. "Hotel sounds perfect."

  
  
Ernest texts him back within a couple minutes with a harsh ‘im at dad’s for the weekend, thanks for remembering’ that flags Hugo’s smile ever so slightly as they make their way out of the parking lot and towards town, where they’ll be able to find a hotel. Damien catches sight of his expression in the pale light of his phone as he texts an apology to Ernest, he’d been so excited that he’d forgotten.

  
  
“So...” Damien starts, and his voice cracks in the middle. “When’s the last time you got to go to a match like this?”

  
  
A laugh bubbles up in him at the memory and he shakes his head. "I took Ernest when he was six. He enjoyed it for the first hour and then started crying because it was loud and scary and he wanted to go home, so we left. Before that the last time was probably in college."

  
  
He had considered going alone of course, and offered to take Ernest a few times as he grew up but had always been turned down, more and more soundly as the years went by until he'd just given up. And while the match might be cool to watch it wasn't much fun to go all alone.

  
  
"Thank you again." he says, smiling softly at Damien. "Tonight was incredible."

  
  
Damien almost feels like he shouldn’t bring it up, but the question sits like bile on the back of his tongue. He doesn’t want Hugo to think he’s trying to compare himself to Hugo’s ex, he doesn’t want their relationship to be a contest against his marriage. Because it isn’t about that at all. But he has to know, he has to ask.

  
  
“What about Victor?”

  
  
Hugo looks away, frowning. "No, never with Victor." He slumps a little in his seat and sighs. "Victor is... very much an intellectual. In the best and worst ways. Sports in general don't appeal to him and wrestling is the most 'plebeian' of all. I think I asked him once when we were dating and he told me to call him after I'd gotten my head checked and remembered what real entertainment is. Or something like that, I don't really remember."

  
  
Damien frowns immediately, looking over at Hugo. “He _what_?” he sounds incredulous. “He _said_ that to you? He- I- what- _Hugo_ ,” he sounds scandalized, and he can’t stop the next words that come out of his mouth. “Why did you keep dating him if he treated you that way?”

  
  
He doesn’t know much about Victor, honestly. Which is partially his fault, he’s never asked very much about him, because it’s very clear that Hugo doesn’t enjoy talking about him. The memories all seem to be bad, and Damien for the life of him can’t figure out why Hugo married him if it was bad all the time. He’d thought for sure that Hugo was just looking back on it through a bitter lens, as many divorced people do- but if Victor was like that when they were still _dating_? How did they ever get _married_?

  
  
"He's brilliant. And it wasn't always like that, that was just a bad moment." Hugo says, not sure why he feels the need to defend Victor. Maybe he's defending himself so Damien won't think of him as some sort of idiot for staying with someone terrible. "We had good times. He just... didn't like wrestling. Which is understandable, it's not exactly a smart hobby. People pretending to fight and dressing up in ridiculous costumes. He's justified in thinking it's stupid. So we just, didn't talk about it and did other things."

  
  
“No, he wasn’t,” Damien says, and he says it firmly as he pulls into the hotel parking lot, and turns off the car, shifting in his seat so his whole body faces Hugo. “Anybody can make arguments for why a hobby is stupid. Nobody can put ‘dresses like dracula’ on their resume. Flowers die once you pick them, and flower arranging is a dying art anyway. Reading and critically dissecting fiction is a niche skill. Fanfiction isn’t real writing. Poetry is useless in the professional world.”

  
  
He reaches out and puts his hand on Hugo’s. “Your hobbies matter because they matter to _you_. And they matter to _me_ because _you_ matter to me, Hugo. _You_ matter. They should have mattered to him, too. Victor was an idiot if he couldn’t see that.”

  
  
Hugo drops his head so Damien won't see him blushing or the tears starting form in his eyes. He holds the other man's hand tightly in his own as if he's worried he's going to suddenly pull away and take it all back even though he knows he won't. Damien is too kind and honest to hurt him like that.

  
  
"Thank you. That really means a lot to me," He says. The words aren't enough to convey just how much it does mean, how much he's feeling right now knowing Damien cares for him this much, how much it means to him to have somebody in his life that he really, truly doesn't have to justify the things he loves to.

  
  
Damien undoes his seat belt and scoots across the bench seat to drape his legs over Hugo’s lap. He doesn’t say anything as he holds his face in his hands and kisses away his tears, rubs his cheekbones with his thumbs, and kisses him again on the mouth. There are more things he wants to say, more words he could use to aggressively support Hugo, but Hugo doesn’t need them right now. He needs Damien’s love. And love, Damien can give.


End file.
